When they strip to their green skin, the world will explode into a magical mystery tour

the troubadours gaze at screens

blips are the gel, connective tissue

brains swelling, floating Sargasso

gyre swizzle sticks the bellies of boobies

goofy condors, like jellyfish mats

undulating under carpets of BP

flotsam

 

they chant songs next to Lincoln

wait for clocks to take them

to beer halls, sushi on live caught

sustainable slabs of tuna

dragged from crystalline Azores

the last old fish, warm blood, pelagic

but who laments last gasp of gilled

magnificence

 

they chart campaigns, robo-call

for dollars, bring smiles to mothers

when same sex campaigns

are the only hope for mountaintops

boomed into the jaguar’s bones

fuel for fanatics, the goutier

stuck in millionaires’ hearty laughs

bank accounts on-shore

too big to fail off-shore

TNC – transnational corporation INC, LLC

 

green leafs, the sign of Madison

Avenue, washing away fidelity

the revolution will be cleansed by

the New Tide, low water capacities

clothes dried by spinning windmills

they use up frequent flyer miles for points, carbon

green stamps when they eco tour

nice slum-poverty-dispossessed trips

forests in Borneo concertino-ed

CTV monitored, shoot to kill

indigenous first, foragers

looking for tubers that cure

capitalism’s ennui

on Chevron-Texaco’s paid for

plots

 

they seem empty, lofty ministerial

words, the foam of poets

locked in schools, fancy parties

fanciful men hitting on women

who pay to sweat, who run until

hypothermia advances new

mysticism, new ways to invest

in the new nano-technologies

maybe a space port in the middle

of Navajo-land, canyons lit up

phosphorus and percolate

for another gem of a billionaire

seeking weightlessness in their stone

hearts

 

these times are extruded prisons

the snap and bend of plastics

soon to be new bones, smiles

digitally controlled with chips

drilled into spines, more enlightened

than Sufi mystics, the new army

of the terabyte thinkers

plugged in and downloaded

no enchantment without Facebook

verifications, the road to perdition

paved with recycled femurs

their Oz some bionic man

derived of Petri, formed of hydrocarbons

 

they bow to him, her face

gelled, his solar plexus like

runway steel, her mind

a Mother Teresa-Margaret Thatcher-Tippi Hedren

bird’s nest of things, travels with his

children, her discovery is self-realization

forming communities, digital leaders

men with metro-sexual gaze

hermaphrodites bungee jumping

into purple haze, magical fungi

salvation

these warriors of the new green

struggle, thumbdrived in, emancipated

from poverty, clicked heels

rampant hope

unending sieg heils

for a hydrogen economy

solar infested  enterprises

the clickety-click of silence

in ruby hills, wind turbines

out of Quixote’s Hell.

 

Paul Kirk has been a journalist since 1977. He's covered police, environment, planning and zoning, county and city politics, as well as working in true small town/community journalism situations in Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Mexico and beyond. He's been a part-time faculty since 1983, and as such has worked in prisons, gang-influenced programs, universities, colleges, alternative high schools, language schools, as a private contractor-writing instructor for US military in Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and Washington. Read other articles by Paul.